Enlightened Descent Ch. 11

This story deals with various aspects of abduction, slavery (actual, not role play), intense humiliation, autoeroticism, exhibitionism, fantasy transformation and hair removal or shaving.

IF YOU FIND SITUATIONS DEALING WITH NON-CONSENSUAL SEX AND SLAVERY UNAPPEALING, PLEASE STOP NOW! If, however, you can continue with an open mind, and read this as it is meant to be, a work of complete fiction...

Enjoy!

Saphhia

Chapter Eleven

Penelope, or 'Chong', a name she had come to revile, huddled in the crate in which she was imprisoned. The cold had waned, replaced by a temperate warmth which spread through her. Months and months of frigid cold had worn her down, not to mention the cruel, almost inhuman treatment she had been subjected to at the hands of Mistress Bai and her 'torture master' Chi Sa.

She had thought her trials were over, when she was moved to the concubine dormitory, but with her recovery came talk of her sale. Now Penny was on her way to that fate, whatever that fate may hold. At least it's warm, she thought as she shifted her weight to the opposite side.

Before they had 'boxed' her up, she had once again been stripped of her clothes. The last week in the dormitory had found her blending in with the concubines, including their dress, which consisted of a satin robe, and the scantest underwear imaginable. With the crate in view, she was washed, roughly with a stinging solution, and caused her skin to dry. She was then shaved and powdered head to toe, which in itself would have been an erotic experience, had the girls been doing it. Unfortunately, the task fell to the male slaves who had so reviled her back in the slave shack.

They seemed to take pleasure in her discomfort as they 'manhandled' her. In the end, she was forced to climb into the crate and duck inside, while the top was securely fastened with screws. As she was being carried out of the house, Bai spoke to her through the wooden walls of her prison.

"You take what you learned here, Chong. It will serve you well." Those words echoed in her head as the truck trundled along the bumpy highway. The powder the men had applied to her body seemed amazingly resilient, and she wondered what it was. She was as white as she had been those many hours before.

After a what seemed like a full day of travel, the crate was finally being lifted from the truck, and she could hear the unmistakable sound of industry and people. Lots of people. For a moment she wondered if she was to be exposed as she was before everyone she was hearing. The thought aroused her, interestingly.

Soon, however, the sound of people faded, to be replaced with quiet, and almost stifling stillness. It made Penny uneasy. A single set of footfalls entered the room and approached the crate. They seemed female in the delicate nature in which the heel touched the floor. Then the intrusive grating noise of an electric screwdriver, reverberated throughout her box. She was being released.

Only then did she become self-conscious of the mess she had made on the floor of the crate. It had been a long journey, and her need to urinate had become overpowering. The light blinded her as the lid was lifted off the box. When her vision cleared, she was being scrutinized by a very attractive woman, dressed in a medical uniform of some kind.

"It was a long journey for you. Come." The woman held out a delicate hand and bid her to stand and climb out of her box. Only then did she realize that they were far from being alone. Behind a glass barrier was a room full of people, all staring at her. There must have been at least twenty of them. Penny's first instinct was to cover herself, but she fought it, instead remaining on full display to the silent observers.

They all watched intently, as she was moved to a tiled receptacle where she was washed by the young woman. Interestingly, as the powder was washed away, her skin remained a pinky white underneath. When the woman had finished, she herded Penny back to center of the room.

"We have subject, 36361, Caucasian female, approximate age, 30 years. Prep work done at outlying facility 24, ready for 'toy' procedure. I'm recommending a deluxe edition makeover." There was a general nodding of agreement with her assessment and the room emptied out almost immediately. "Okay. Let's get you to intake."

Suddenly, the woman took Penny by the arm and whisked her out of the small room, and out into what seemed to be a larger factory of sorts, although immaculately clean and almost sterile in appearance. Her nakedness didn't catch the notice of anyone as they wove their way across the large floor, to the opposite side of the facility.

Entering an office, she was unceremoniously deposited into a chair, next to another woman, at least ten years her junior. Unlike Penny, this woman seemed frightened and lost. Her skin was bleached white as well, but her hair was intact. Penny self-consciously ran her hand over her smooth scalp as the girl looked at her. Not knowing what else to do, Penny smiled, averting her eyes to the floor.

Penny was still trying to imagine what was in store for her here. The woman had spoken of a 'toy' procedure, and all she could think about was a giant dildo being thrust in and out of her. Her sex twitched at the idea, but that could not have been what they were talking about, surely. Could it?

The woman next to her was taken inside first, and Penny sat patiently awaiting her return, but she never came out. Instead, Penny was ushered inside after ten minutes or so, and was confronted with a middle-aged man, who was obviously a physician. They must have taken the woman away through another exit, she thought. The small exam table was indicated by the doctor, so she climbed on, being placed in stirrups almost immediately. The sense of exposure was intense, as he probed down there, all the while, with the attractive woman who had opened the crate standing by.

When the doctor nodded, Penny was immediately escorted from the room and down a long and dreary corridor. Gone was the stark white and gleaming exterior of the place, replaced by a rather drab and run-down decor. It reminded Penny of a seedy motel she stayed at once in Tulsa.

A door was opened, and she was pushed inside. "Rest 36361, you will need it. Trust me." The woman laughed, locking the door behind her as she left. Penny could hear the footsteps as they faded, and she began to take in her surroundings.

The room was painted white, but a long time ago. There were holes in the wall, and where there was space, graffiti. Most of it was in mandarin, but a few of the scrawling texts were in English or French. They were all pleas for release, or that they were here at some point; almost like a last testament before disappearing into whatever system await them. Awaited her, she thought.

*

Allison woke on Sunday morning, still sore from her laser session of two days before. Her entire scalp was on fire, or at least it felt that way. The cream that she's been given to apply was helping, but it only took the edge off. To make matters worse, her scalp was red and angry looking, which only caused her to be the brunt of numerous jokes.

After she was halfway through her morning chores, did Elise offer her a scarf to wrap her head in, only because it made everyone else uncomfortable to see it. Of course, the scarf did nothing but irritate her skin even more, so she would remove it whenever she was alone. It was that afternoon that the news arrived.

Marga was on her way home, quite unexpectedly too. The household was in turmoil. Tasks that were to be done in her absence, suddenly took on a renewed urgency and everyone was put to work, including Allison. She was set to dusting and cleaning, next to the regular maids, who resented her presence, but appreciated her help, nonetheless. No one knew why Mistress was arriving home a full three weeks ahead of schedule, but then, she didn't need a reason. She was the Mistress of the house.

Knowing she would have word of Asha, Allison was very excited. That she would be out from under Elise's thumb was not an unpleasant notion either. The house was barely prepared when the limousine pulled into the large loop drive in front of the great house. Surprisingly, Marga did not wait for the full complement of staff to assemble for her to exit the car. She dashed in through the doors with someone else in tow, and from the look of the black hijab, a woman. Had she rescued another slave? Allison's thoughts ran back to Mari, and their night in the harem bedchamber. She relished the idea of spending time with another slave, someone to serve next to.

Allison had retired to her bedroom after the commotion of Marga's arrival but could hear the conversation taking place on the other side of the wall in Marga's boudoir.

"What do we do now? He will come after me, you know this." The voice sounded familiar, but the wall muffled the tone to a monotone drone.

"Then we must hide you. It is doubtful he would come himself. He will send men. Men trained to obey him." There was no doubt that this was Marga.

"Hide? Hide where. There are no bounds to his resources, Marga."

"Then we must be cunning. We will hide you in plain sight." There was a moment of silence. "Allison!" She shouted, knowing full well that I was eavesdropping on the opposite side of the wall.

Allison startled to her feet and hurriedly made her way to her door, knocking. "Yes, Mistress."

"Come in, my little one. I have a surprise for you." Pushing the door open, Allison nearly dropped to her knees at the sight before her eyes. Asha.

"Asha?" Allison sighed, and did indeed fall to the floor, penitent as she always was before her.

"Edim Alshaer!" Asha rushed over to her, but then gathered herself. She held out her hand, and Allison smothered it in kisses "It is wonderful to see you again, my slave."

"Oh, Mistress. I feared that I might never see you again." Allison wept, still holding her lips to Asha's hand. "What of your wedding, Mistress? Are you still to be wed?"

"No, my little one. He wanted things from me that I could not possibly give, so I fled Qatar. Marga managed to smuggle me out of the country."

"Enough of the explanations. We can chat later. Right now, we need a plan to hide Asha from my cousin's men, for they will most assuredly come looking for her." Marga placed a finger at her lips, "and I think I have the perfect one." Marga sat on her bed and bid Asha to join her. Allison knelt on the floor at their feet. "They must be able to look right at her, and not see her, Allison."

I looked at Marga, puzzled, and Asha was no less so. "Take your Mistress into my bath, and make her in your image, Allison."

"You mean to make me a slave, cousin?" Asha asked, bewildered.

"Oh, not just a slave, Asha, a hairless slave." Marga grinned.

"No! Please, Mistress Marga. Do not ask such a thing of me." Allison begged. Asha grabbed her waist length hair protectively, as Marga seemed to be relishing the idea.

"You think this is the only way to hide me?" Asha asked, a tear slipping down her cheek as she held Allison closely to her.

"Would my cousin's men look upon a lowly bald slave and think for one minute that it was their Master's future bride?" Marga challenged.

"I cannot think that they would, no." Asha mourned.

"Then it is a brilliant idea. Allison, do as you are told." Asha took a deep breath and lifted Alison from the floor at her feet, who was still weeping over the task before her. The idea of touching a single hair on Asha's magnificent head would once have been beyond imagining. Now she was being told to shave her, as she had been shaved. It broke her heart.

Asha assured her that her escape from Qatar and her fiancé was harrowing, and that anything she had to do to keep from returning there was well worth the sacrifice. For whatever reason Marga seemed to be thrilled by the idea of her cousin being brought so low. "I wish I had the courage to do this just once." Marga muttered, as Asha took a seat on the commode.

"May we please have some privacy, Marga. This will be very hard, for us both." Asha asked politely, to which Marga simply closed the door behind her. Searching through the large cabinet that dominated one side of the room, Allison was able to find some scissors. Taking a deep breath, and swallowing her grief, she placed the blades close to Asha's head and closed them. Each of them involuntarily sobbed as the long dark lock of hair fell to the floor.

Figuring she would try and make this as painless as possible for them both, Allison moved quickly, closing the blades close to Asha's scalp repetitively. In less than a minute all that remained of her Mistress' beautiful hair was a ragged crop which made her look less than regal. Asha looked up at herself in the mirror, and instead of weeping, let out a giggle. "Ah, I look like a waif." Her jovial attitude did little to comfort Allison, who was still distraught over the whole thing. "Let us finish this, sister."

Allison gazed at Asha, confused over her statement. "Sister?"

"Yes, if I am to be a slave as well, then we could be sisters, yes?" Asha grinned.

Allison wet Asha's hair and worked some soap into the choppy stubble left by the scissors. She had never used a straight razor before, so she chose a simple bic to complete Asha's transformation. When at last the job was done, the bath looked a frightful mess, so Allison set about cleaning up the long strands of black hair that covered the floor. To her amazement, Asha bent to help her. "Mistress, you don't have..."

"Not Mistress, Allison. Sister." Allison nodded, understanding that the illusion must be complete. "Now, for the hardest part." Asha pulled on her hijab, releasing the ties and allowing the garment to fall to the floor. She wore nothing beneath. At the sight of Asha's body, Allison couldn't help but kneel before her and pull herself into Asha's perfectly shaved sex. "We should both be naked, I think."

Asha began to undress Allison, pulling away the livery that she had been wearing, until they both stood facing each other, hairless and naked.

"Oh, how charming." Of course, Marga chose that moment to enter once again. "You'll make for a very convincing slave, cousin." Marga kidded, running a hand over Asha's satin smooth scalp.

"Only in jest, Marga. For we both know that I am not a slave." Asha bit, causing Marga to step back.

"I think it best that you spend the night in Allison's room. If they do come looking for you, I have a plan that will secure the illusion." Marga disappeared, obviously disappointed that Asha had so definitively asserted her position.

"I'm sorry the room is so small, sister, but I am fortunate." Allison stroked Asha's breast with her fingers as they lay together on the small bed.

"It is a nice room, Edim... I mean Allison." Asha cupped Allison's hand beneath her breast, enjoying the caress. "I have missed you, terribly."

"And I you, Asha. I dreamt of you always." Allison dropped her head into Asha's shoulder. "But in my dreams, you were always my Mistress, never my equal."

"This will pass, my love, and you will find that we can move towards a new understanding between us. I say my love, because I have come to the realization that I do indeed love you, Allison." Asha lifted Allison's face to her own, and kissed her passionately, their tongues weaving around the others wetly. Allison couldn't help but allow her hands to wander over Asha's freshly shorn head, eliciting a moan from her. "As much as I miss my hair, this sensation is not unpleasant." Asha chuckled under her breath.

"It has been so long since I have known anything else, that I have perhaps forgotten how it feels when it is new." Allison admitted.

Asha ran her hand over Allison's scalp, noticing the redness. "Why are you so sore?"

"Marga has decided I should be permanently bald." Allison frowned.

"That was not a decision for her to make, but it does not displease me."

Allison slid down Asha's slender form until her mouth was poised above her center, the scent of her so vivid a reminder, that she felt herself grow wet with anticipation. Without permission, Allison allowed her tongue to slide over Asha's sensitive folds, ending at her clitoris, which was hard and nearly vibrating. As Allison continued her ministrations, Asha spoke through her arousal. "He would have taken this from me, my love." Allison didn't stop but instead intensified her attentions until Asha thrust her hips upwards in a long overdue orgasm. "I am so lucky to have you."

Then, much to Allison's surprise, Asha switched her position and began to pleasure Allison. This was something Asha had never done, but she did it so well that Allison wondered if there had ever been a time. "Asha, Oh, my love."

Suddenly, there was a swift rapping on the door. Marga did not seem surprised to find the two of them entwined when she entered. "You must come, both of you." Still naked, and quite wet Asha and Allison followed Marga across the hall to the playroom. As soon as she knew where they were heading, Allison's heart rose into her throat. She was not worried for herself, but for Asha. She wasn't entirely sure that Marga was trustworthy. "Allison, into the cage." Her voice was stern, and there was no disobeying her. I crawled into the small cage, where I had been so foolishly trapped once before.

"Marga, is that really necessary?" Asha demanded.

"Yes, it is. I'm afraid that this is also necessary, cousin." Marga ratcheted a handcuff onto Asha's wrist and fastened it to the Saint Andrews cross. After Asha had stopped flailing, she did the same with the other.

"What are you doing, Marga?" Asha begged, her wrists stretched upwards, so she was fully on her tip toes.

"Completing the illusion, cousin." Marga grabbed a crop that was convenient, and began slashing at Asha, leaving a crisscross of angry red welts on her alabaster skin. Allison fought against the cage, but to no avail.

Seconds later, two men burst into the room, with one of the staff protesting behind them. Upon seeing the display, one of the men smirked while the other remained cross and determined.

"Marga. Where is your cousin?" The angry one demanded.

"I don't know. We parted company in Paris, I'm afraid I haven't seen her since. She did mention America in one of our conversations. Perhaps you should check there." Marga twirled the crop in her fingers as the amused man looked on.

"I think she is here, somewhere. You two have always been thick as thieves." The man eyed Asha up and down, sneering as he took in her bald head. "You have strange tastes, woman."

"No stranger than my cousin. I hear he wanted to cut her. No wonder she ran away." Marga said.

"That is tradition, Marga."

"It's barbaric." She hissed

"So, you have no objection to us searching the place?" He asked, as his partner sauntered ever closer to Asha.

"No, none whatsoever. Have at it." Marga motioned, offhandedly. A look of disappointment swept over his face.

"The Sheik will be pleased with your cooperation. We won't be bothering you then." The man turned to leave, just as she was offering the crop to the other. His eyes lit up as he reached for it. "We don't have time for games, Abdul. Besides, who would want to play with such an ugly, bald thing." The man withdrew his hand and followed his partner out the door.

*

Even though the weather had been warmer outside, the temperature in her little room was too cold to be comfortable. Penny had no idea what was going to happen to her. She had been through so much already. Surely, she had paid enough for what she had done to Allison. This was how Penny viewed her misfortune; the gods exacting revenge on her for her deceitful, evil ways.